


A Cracked Song In The Universe

by silverlining99



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-11
Updated: 2011-04-11
Packaged: 2017-10-30 00:06:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverlining99/pseuds/silverlining99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim likes to spend Halloween in goth clubs. Leonard doesn't, but he's there anyway. AU with age reversal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cracked Song In The Universe

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Garbage's "Deadwood."

He first lays eyes on the kid on Halloween, in a goth club. The pinch of his features and the set of his shoulders announces to anyone listening that he's there because his damn friends made him be there.

Jim is there because...well, because it never fails to be hilarious, for one thing.

It's also the best night of the year to find fools who are misguidedly willing to give him what he wants.

 

 

He gets distracted. It's a hazard of the evening, with all its morsels of entertainment.

He winds up with a tiny little peach of a girl in the ladies room, his fingers sliding over her clit in sync with the pull of his mouth against her skin, her hitching little gasps and sobs burning him from the inside out.

When he's gotten his fill of her warm, wet rush, he tugs her skirt up and fucks her in thanks; it was what she sought, coming in here with him. Her body thumps laxly against the door with every sharp thrust, arms wound loosely around his shoulders, legs cradled in the crooks of his arms. Her head lolls to the side and her eyelids flutter.

She's beautiful and sweet and full of the kind of unforgivably stupid trust that makes a dark part of him think she'd deserve for him to do what he could to her. It tempts him, the lure of being the monster in the night, the mistake she'll never make again.

Instead he sends her stumbling away with soothing words that may or may not help when she wakes up in the morning and confronts the evidence of what's happened to her. It's all he can do, try and hope.

The rest will be up to her.

 

His mood is light and his skin is crackling when he comes across the kid again, hunched over at the bar with a sweating drink in hand. Jim feels better than he has in months.

The girl was exactly what he was looking for. This kid, on the other hand...this kid is an unexpected find.

And now Jim has the patience to play. He makes his way over, murmurs quietly in the ear of the person sitting next to the kid until she suddenly realizes she has somewhere else to be and vacates her seat.

"Death is overrated," Jim says lightly, dropping onto the newly available stool.

The kid swivels to look at him. His mouth is already opening, no doubt to snarl out some ferocious rejection judging by his expression, but he stops short as he registers Jim's easy smile, his jeans and t-shirt. His _normalcy_. Relief flashes in his eyes, along with a telling hint of interest. "Pardon?" he says, his drawl thick as molasses.

"You're throwing off some pretty heavy 'kill me now' vibes." Jim winks. "Could be risky, place like this."

The kid rolls his eyes. "Surrounded by these fools? Ha. Nothing but miscreant wannabes playing dress-up as an outlet for all their repressed childhood angst."

"Most of them," Jim agrees. "But then there are the others. There's a dangerous sort in every crowd."

"I think I'll survive," the kid says dryly. "And if nothing else, I've learned a valuable lesson in making bets with cheating asshole friends." He eyes Jim, assessing and wary. "Can't help but notice you don't exactly fit in with this freakshow."

"Call me a casual observer." Jim gestures to the bartender and indicates the kid's empty glass. "My treat. Anyway, it's good for a night's entertainment, watching the animals in their unnatural habitats."

That earns him a brief smile, a snort of amusement, and an acknowledging twitch of one eyebrow. "Downright sickening is more like." With a grateful sigh, the kid takes up his freshened drink and slings back a solid half of it before glancing at Jim again. The interest sparks in his eyes again. "Leonard McCoy," he offers.

"I'm Jim," Jim says. He grins.

The night just keeps getting better.

 

They talk. Jim swivels his stool around to watch the movement and writhe of people on the floor, and lets his knee brush along Leonard's thigh as he moves. Leonard shivers, almost imperceptibly. Jim hides a smile, leans back on his elbow, eyes Leonard over the lip of his glass.

Leonard is a medical student, he learns. He files that away alongside plans to pay a visit to the university hospital sometime soon, and he spins out his own tale about dabbling in finance. "Call me a captain of industry," he says with a small smirk.

Leonard snorts. "Uh-huh. Leaving your own brand of carnage in your wake, I imagine."

"Of course," Jim says. He smiles outright and drop his hand onto Leonard's leg, holding his gaze steadily. "Hey. Wanna dance?"

Leonard's laugh is a sharp bark of noise. "Right."

"Come on, we're here." Jim dials up the persuasive charm he's spent an eternity perfecting. "We've been drinking. We'll _still_ look less idiotic than anyone else in the joint. What can it hurt?"

"My pride. My dignity. My ability to look myself in the mirror in the morning," Leonard rattles off. But when Jim lifts his hand to graze over his knuckles on the top of the bar, curls his fingers under and begins to pull, Leonard doesn't resist. He slides smoothly off his stool and lets Jim tug him in a reluctant shuffle into the teeming swarm of bodies. "I'll give you two minutes --"

Jim smirks and tugs sharply, spinning Leonard into a close press, Leonard's back to his chest. Leonard goes rigid for a moment, until Jim settles hands on his hips and urges him into a sway in time to the slow, wailing music. "I think you can spare a little longer for me, hmm?" he murmurs, tucking his chin over Leonard's shoulder.

Leonard hesitates. "Maybe five minutes," he grumbles. Jim's answering laugh is intentionally throaty. He skims his hands up along Leonard's sides, palms his chest. "Six if you prove you have an ounce of rhythm to go with the pretty boy face."

"Oh, I could show you rhythm." Jim presses his nose behind Leonard's ear and inhales deeply, slides his tongue along the seam as he moves gracefully behind him, against him. "This where your tastes run? Soft and sensual? Or maybe something a little...harder. Something with a _beat_ to it, something you can _feel_ from the inside out?"

He gets his answer in a sharp intake of breath, a flare of heat under Leonard's skin, under the cool graze of Jim's mouth. Jim strokes his chest, feeling out the contours of flesh layered over muscle layered over bone, all of it sheltering Leonard's jackhammering heart. He grinds his growing erection against Leonard's ass and moves with him and presses his lips in scattered kisses, seeking out sensitive spots.

After a good ten minutes, a change in music, he finally locks an arm around Leonard's waist and palms his crotch with his other hand. Leonard is hard in his pants, the firm line of his cock extending down the leg of his jeans. Jim rubs it lightly and closes his mouth around Leonard's earlobe. "Let's be clear," he says, leading just enough to make the helpless rolls of Leonard's hips work in time to the thumping bass. "When we leave here, I'd like it to be together."

Leonard groans and drops his head back. Jim has no trouble hearing the breathy, "Fuck," that Leonard lets out. He smiles and squeezes Leonard's cock. "That's the idea, yeah," he says. He turns his head to speak directly into Leonard's ear, modulates his voice to a relaxing, melodic cadence. "I want to take you home with me and spread you out on my bed, do things to you I guarantee you've never even imagined." Leonard shudders against him. "I want to fill you with my cock and make your life flash before your eyes, Leonard. Say yes to me. Tell me you want that."

"Yes," Leonard grunts. He pants raggedly and his hips work restlessly, seeking more pressure than Jim will give him. "Let's -- let's go."

Jim laughs softly. "You young ones are always so eager," he whispers. He slips around so that he can gaze at Leonard's flushed face, his slightly dazed eyes. Leonard sways on his feet and Jim palms his cheeks, steals a too-short kiss that Leonard tries to chase after when he breaks it off. "You're going to look amazing when I fuck you," Jim says, gentle and soothing. "So perfectly alive..."

"Please," Leonards says hoarsely. "Jim -- "

Jim catches his hand and pulls him towards the exit without another word.

 

 

"I live nearby," he says, out on the street. Leonard's hand tightens in his and Jim catches a glimpse of wary hesitation, like the blast of cooler air that washed over them the second they stepped outside has also knocked some sense into him. He dredges up a reassuring smile. "Honest, right around the corner. There's a doorman and everything, totally legit."

Leonard gives him a short nod. "Yeah, that's -- that's fine."

Jim pauses. He pulls Leonard in and kisses him right in the middle of the sidewalk, one fist tight in Leonard's hair. "Do you want me?" he whispers. Leonard nods again, hands touching Jim's sides gingerly. "Then have me. C'mon, have I given you any reason to freak out yet? We'll have fun, both get everything we want..."

Leonard looks at him like he'd be hard-pressed to explain a single thing that's going on. What he's doing, why he's doing it - why he's on the verge of giving in.

Jim can't exactly be surprised. He has that effect on people. He presses a last kiss to Leonard's mouth and pulls him along, smiles to himself as Leonard stumbles back into step beside him. He really does live around the corner, in a building of converted lofts. Micah nods at him from behind the desk when they wander in.

He's used to Jim's conquests coming and going in the middle of the night, all manner of dazed and lust-stricken expressions on their faces.

Jim lives on the third floor, in a wide open space of exposed beams and bright lights and blackout shades that are still shut tight. "Can I get you something to drink? Eat?" He eyes Leonard closely, winks at him. "You'll be needing your strength."

Leonard shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs, tension that just won't do returning to his shoulders. Jim moves back to him and rubs it away, keeping his fingers gentle. "Hey," he says softly. Leonard gazes at him, desire and hesitation at war on his face. Jim smiles teasingly. "You never did tell me those tastes of yours. Slow, gentle? Or do you want it hard and fast? Tell me how to give you what you want."

"I don't know," Leonard grits out. His eyes shut tight and his face pinches. "I've never done this before, damn it."

Jim kisses him until the worry melts away, until Leonard is gasping into his mouth and trying to suck hungrily on his tongue. "That's fine. It wouldn't matter, anyway," he murmurs. "Everyone I bring here experiences something new." He flicks Leonard's pants open, slips his hand inside to work Leonard's trapped cock free, bites carefully at Leonard's lip. "I'll go easy on you, I promise. Make you come with my fingers before I fuck you how _I_ want."

Leonard thrusts into his palm and pulls at his shirt. "Yeah, I -- do that, I want you to do that, whatever you want, just -- fuck, could we just --"

Jim shoves him away. "Take your clothes off," he orders.

Leonard obeys.

 

Things go smoothly, all through the abandoning of clothes and leading Leonard to the bed, laying him out on it. Jim kneels between his legs and jacks his own cock slowly, watching Leonard thoughtfully. "Look at you," he says. "I can't wait to taste you."

Leonard swallows hard and Jim is delighted to see traces of mulish determination in his expression. "I don't see anyone stopping you," he grumbles.

Jim flicks a glance down at Leonard's cock, bites back the response that comes to mind. He grins slowly and leans to grab lube from his bedside table, and he holds Leonard's gaze as he pours a generous amount onto his fingers. "Fair enough," he murmurs. He presses his fingertips firmly behind Leonard's balls, rubs slow circles. "You want my mouth, Leonard? You want me to suck you?"

With a sharp intake of breath, Leonard spreads his legs. Jim's fingers slip against his hole and he presses the middle one in. Vague discomfort flashes across Leonard's face even as he shifts into the touch. "Ah -- _yes_!"

Jim dips low and slides his mouth over Leonard's cock in one smooth sweep that matches the plunge of his finger. He finds Leonard's prostate and presses it in sync with his tongue coaxing under the head of his cock.

Leonard comes inside of three minutes, within moments of Jim working a second finger in. The taste of him is cloying and unsatisfying in Jim's mouth, but he sucks Leonard dry and has a third finger pressed deep by the time he lets Leonard's softening cock fall free, has Leonard shifting restlessly atop the sheets. He withdraws only to slick his cock, Leonard tracking his movements with heavy-lidded eyes. He'd like to think he has more patience, more control, but his hunger for this one, his need, is becoming overwhelming.

Jim has to have him, with a desperation he hasn't felt in ages. He stares at Leonard, unblinking, and he leans to guide his cock into place and press relentlessly in. The resistance makes no difference to him, nor Leonard's gasp of surprise; all that matters is the heat, the tight clutch, the sight of blood rising under the surface of Leonard's skin as he works himself deep, pries Leonard open to him with incremental strokes.

He thinks, pressing low to kiss the tight scowl off Leonard's face, that he truly can't remember the last time taking what he wanted felt so _right_. Even holding back, even making himself wait through the interminable process of allowing Leonard to get used to the slow, deliberate thrusts while he pins him down, cages him in, drinks in his damp, panting breaths when really what he craves is so much thicker, richer. Less than everything is still more than he'd imagined when he set eyes on this one.

Not that he doesn't still intend to have everything. He rocks into Leonard and Leonard locks his legs behind Jim's back, face twisting in a scowl that is no longer uncomfortable, but impatient.

"Please," Leonard moans.

Jim lays his lips to the pulse hammering in Leonard's neck, and begins to fuck him at exactly the same pace.

 

 

He manages, just barely, to wait until Leonard is hard again, until after he's pushed Leonard onto his hands and knees and gripped his hips and let loose, until Leonard is slick with sweat and scrabbling at the mattress, until a hand slipped under him discovers his cock thick and full once more. Jim strokes him slowly for awhile, fingers and thumb teasing out small thrusts and aggravated groans. "More," Leonard begs.

Jim withdraws and flips him over again. His cock slips back in with ease, Leonard's body open and accepting of him. He pushes deep and holds there, hips rotating in a close grind as he captures Leonard's hands and presses them flat to the bed. Leonard strains up against him, teeth white and blunt against his lower lip, cheeks rashed with deep red.

Jim waits until his refusal to thrust draws Leonard's full attention to him. "I won't hurt you," he says then, holding Leonard's gaze. Doubt and confusion flickers across Leonard's face, but then it clears and he nods slowly. "Remember that," Jim emphasizes. "I will _not_ hurt you. Don't panic."

Leonard frowns at him -- and then his eyes widen as Jim opens his mouth and lets his fangs slowly distend.

His burst into action, into struggling, is swift and abrupt. But Jim is ready for it, well-practiced and far, far too strong for Leonard to have a chance against him. He holds Leonard's wrists down and nullifies the frantic buck of Leonard's body with his own. He moves easily with Leonard, turns each attempt to throw Jim off into a new thrust, a deep plunge of his cock into Leonard's body. Leonard fights and he fucks and it's the most natural thing ever to Jim. It spurs him on.

But it's not what he wanted from this. "Leonard," he snaps commandingly. "If I felt like harming you, you'd be _dead_ already."

Leonard's pupils are ringed with white. His nostrils flare as he sucks in deep breaths. He goes still, but a fine tremor shakes his muscles beneath the shining surface of his skin. Jim knits their fingers together and holds him down and rides him smoothly, his cock sliding in the tight, hot grip of Leonard's ass. The real fight is in waiting any longer, in the ache in his teeth, in pushing aside the sharp craving. "Let me," he demands. He tips his head, scrapes his fangs lightly along Leonard's neck. "Leonard, _let_ me..."

"What _are_ you?" Leonard bursts out. Jim feels every conflicting emotion within him, the terrified strain in his muscles and the lock of his legs around Jim's waist, the way his body moves instinctively, needily with each forceful thrust of Jim's cock into him. "Jesus Christ, _fuck_ , what the hell are you?"

"Not a danger to you," Jim whispers. He lets himself break skin, pinpricks of pressure that give him nothing but two tiny droplets of blood to lap up. Leonard jerks, moans outright. His fingers curl tightly between Jim's. "Leonard...choose this. Choose me. You won't be sorry."

It's less acquiescence and more acceptance of defeat. Jim knows that, and a part of him mourns it even though he doesn't quite know why he wants so badly for this one to consent. But one way or another it gives him a slackening of Leonard's body, gives him Leonard's neck arched back in invitation. Jim licks the salt from his skin and sucks a bruise to the surface.

Leonard's skin gives way like warm butter.

Blood gushes into Jim's mouth, hot and copper-sweet. He drinks and fucks and Leonard goes rigid beneath him as orgasm hits him hard and tears through his fear. "Jim!" he gasps. His cock pulses wet heat between them. Jim sinks in deep and comes.

For a few precious, perfect moments, he actually feels alive again.

He holds onto that, drags it out as long as possible. It's been centuries since he felt anything like it.

Already, he thinks he could easily get used to this.

He could get used to Leonard.

 

 

After, Leonard lies still, but for touching fingers cautiously to the small wounds on his neck. "You could have killed me," he says, his voice gravelly and uncertain.

"Sure. Only then you'd be dead," Jim points out. "I'd have a body to dispose of and no hope of ever fucking you _again_ , 'cause I am _really_ not into that. Works out better this way for both of us, don't you think?"

Leonard rolls onto his side, stares at Jim. Jim smiles charmingly. "You're a goddamn _vampire_ ," Leonard says flatly.

"The vampire part is true enough," Jim agrees, shrugging. "Haven't come across proof of God or whether he sees fit to damn me one way or the other so far."

"Great, and a smartass to boot," Leonard grumbles. His lips compress as Jim shifts closer and kisses him, but Jim is no quitter and he relaxes into it in no time, huffs in an exasperated way when Jim grins against his mouth. "Asshole."

"You liked it." Jim breaks off, only to lick slowly across the marks. Leonard inhales sharply. "You'd let me do it again."

Leonard tips his head, tautening his neck under Jim's mouth. "Fuck. God help me, I would."

" _God_ hasn't helped a soul so far as I could tell, in all the years I've lived."

"And how many is that?" Leonard asks, sounding newly apprehensive.

Jim licks a stray, missed trace of blood from his skin. He doesn't answer, not directly. "I'll fuck you," he murmurs. "I'll feed from you. But I won't tell you how old I am. It's not ladylike."

"Must be old, if you're that sensitive about it," Leonard says snidely. Jim smiles and bites without warning, cradling Leonard's neck in his palm as Leonard arches in pained surprise. Jim straddles his body and pulls him up to sit, lets his slow sips leak so that blood spills down Leonard's chest between them.

The mess is no matter. He always enjoys cleaning it up.

Which he does; he drinks for mere seconds and then pushes Leonard back, drags his tongue painstakingly across Leonard's skin until it's pristine. It tastes better this time when he sucks Leonard's cock, blood lingering in the corners of his mouth, the spaces between his teeth. Leonard runs fingers through his hair and lets it happen, relaxed, at ease. After he comes, he stares down at Jim.

"Is this -- do I get to walk out of here?" he asks quietly.

Jim watches him through his lashes. "Of course you do," he says. "You get to walk back in, too, any time you want."

Which will happen, he knows. He's decided: he'll do whatever he has to to _make_ it happen.

This one, he wants to keep.


End file.
